


Silk and Lace

by allofthefandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Lingerie, M/M, Mental Illness, PTSD, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hadn't touched a pair of panties since he had thrown away the pair while he had been on tour.  It was deviant, he had told himself.  Shameful.  And yet here he was surrounded by proof that there were people like him, people who were into stuff like this, interested enough to fill a whole entire store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk and Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vassalady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/gifts).



> The homophobia is a brief scene right at the beginning, where Riley comes to Sam's defense against someone bigoted. Also, there is mentions of grief related internalized homophobia and self-judgement. But this is mostly a fic about embracing and exploring identity and is not a huge part of the overall story, just the starting place.

Chapter one

“What?  You gonna start shit?  So what if Sam Wilson wears a pair of fucking blue lace Captain America panties.  He’s still a better soldier than you.  We all have our shit that keeps us from falling apart at the seams.  Drop it.”  Riley was trembling under Sam’s grip, red faced and heaving.  Sam knew that if he let go, there would be a brawl on his hands, and for both his sake and Riley’s, that couldn’t happen.

“He’s a fucking faggot!”  Sam didn’t know the men circling them, but it was clear Riley did by the knowing rage in his eyes.

“Better a faggot than a man with two girlfriends and a wife.  You told Marlene that Amy’s pregnant?”  The man growled and stepped forward, hands balled into fists.  Sam knew that if it came to a fight, this man and his thuggish friends would turn them into paste.  They may have been quick in the air, but that lightness came at a cost when it came to hand to hand.

“Riley, drop it.”  Sam was not sure he can keep the man back.  Riley was a good 4 inches shorter than him, but it only seemed to have compacted the strength and rage.

“Fuck no, Sam!  This guy should get off your back!”

“Is it worth the disciplinary hearing for punching him?” That was enough to get Riley to take a breath, stepping back even though he was trembling.

“It’s not worth it,” Sam said softly, turning to face Riley completely and block his view of his opponent.

“Yeah you are,” Riley muttered, but he stepped away anyway.

~ ~ ~

Then Riley falls and Sam can’t help but feel like he’s fallen too.

They give him time off to go to Riley’s funeral, but the starch of his uniform is choking as he lifts his corner of the coffin.  He sees Riley’s mother, dressed tastefully in black, and manages to muster up some semblance of a smile, which is echoed on her watery face.  They had met once before, and often chatted with Riley was skyping from overseas,  but seeing her like this…

Fuck it hurt so much.

Sam’s hands tremble during the whole service, and he has to choke back tears.  It’s not his place to cry here, not in front of Riley’s family and loved ones.  He barely has any recollection of the words spoken, or of folding the flag and offering it grimly to Riley’s weeping family.

What he does remember is the stench of white flowers, of roses and lilies overflowing from the grave in splashes of white.

(It’s wrong that they are so unsullied, Sam thinks.  They should be red and broken like the man below them.  Like the man who had hit so hard they had sent him home in a bucket instead of a body bag.)

He doesn’t stop to talk to anyone on his way out, though Riley’s mother moves to stop him before she sees his face.  Sam thinks she’s going to call out to him, but she doesn’t.

Sam cries the moment his door is closed, slumping to the floor with huge, heaving sobs.  It wasn’t fair.  Sam had lost the one person who knew everything, the one person who didn’t judge or tease or mock, the one person who had loved him just the way he was.

And now Riley was gone and Sam was completely alone.   

~ ~ ~

Sam didn’t go back, even though they offered.  Project Falcon had been disbanded, one half of the only unit good enough to serve cooling in the ground and the other spending too many hours of the day staring at the sky remembering the way the wind felt.

His mother let him stew for a few months before dropping in unexpectedly with a suitcase and Sam’s favorite pie.

“I’m not letting my baby boy waste away,” she murmured, tugging Sam to her ample chest.  “I know how much you loved that boy, and I know you’ll be dreaming of his fall for the rest of your life, but that doesn’t mean you should give up living.”

Sam made an appointment with the local Veteran’s Affairs branch for therapy three days later.  
 

~ ~ ~

Sam's got his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his heavy coat, walking quickly towards the subway  on his way home from therapy when he sees it.  The sign was discrete and there was no window display, but he knows a sex store when he sees one.

He can't quite explain why he ducked in (maybe it has something to do with his therapist telling him he should relearn his desires) but the moment he stepped inside, there's an odd coil of pleasure in the pit of his stomach that's almost overwhelming.

The store specialized in lingerie for men.

Sam hadn't touched a pair of panties since he had thrown away the pair while he had been on tour.  It was deviant, he had told himself.  Shameful.  And yet here he was surrounded by proof that there were people like him, people who were into stuff like this, interested enough to fill a whole entire store.

"May I help you?"  Sam felt like he jumped a foot in the air when the mild mannered associate came up beside him.

"Well...I..."

"Take your time."  There's no hint of reprimand, but Sam can't help but feel like he's one of those homophobes who'd come in to gawk. 

He let his hands run over silk and lace, drinking in the soft blues and pinks and the cool weightlessness under his calluses.

One display caught his eye, a gaudy little thing slathered with Avengers promotional stills.  And there they were, staring up at him in cool blue silk, Cap's shield plucked out in lace relief.

They could be a dupe for the pair he had thrown away two years ago in a fit of shame, and Sam was leafing through the stack for his size before he was even aware of it.

It was like a dam had broken and soon the silk panties were joined by a practical set of pastel cotton ones along with a black garter belt and Cuban heel stockings.  Even as he brought his purchases to the cash register, he still felt a little twinge of guilt, but when they were all wrapped in discreet packaging and safely in his hands, Sam felt the best he had all week.

 

 


End file.
